Shouldn't Have Asked
by Phoenix Wand
Summary: Drabble. Hiro wonders, and when asking K, wishes he hadn't. 450 words worth of total fluff.


Title; Shouldn't Have Asked

Rating; K+ After all, K-san manages to control those trigger happy fingers of his, doesn't he?

Disclaimer; If I owned Gravitation I would be thrilled. And K-san would be doing _way_ stupider shit than he is now.

Author's Notes; DRABBLE. Yay! Plot bunnies attacked me, and kinda of made me wonder, "Wow, does he…?" I made Hiro the one to ask 'cause Shuichi wouldn't think of it and Eiri wouldn't care…unless that sniper is aimed at him again. I bet you, even while K-san's doing all this stuff, he doesn't. (I know you're all thinking, "What is she talking about?" Read the drabble to know!) I sound crazy.

* * *

The studio for N-G Productions was quiet at such an…well, not an early hour, but seeing as how the singer for the leading band, Bad Luck, never showed up before noon, it was early enough. The sun light poured through the wide windows facing the city, and the room was filled with the soft plucks from an unplugged electric guitar. 

Hiro looked up from his own callused fingers racing across the neck to where K sat across the table from him. The young guitarist watched as well practiced fingers unloaded the clip of a Beretta pistol (after a while you just got to pick up the names of the damn things…) and disconnected the different pieces before lovingly cleaning each one with a cleaning cloth.

Bullets, which he really hoped were either safeties or blanks, lay in a box before the older American man, and he pulled them out one at a time before putting them into the clip. As K took practiced aim, raising his arm and closing one eye (muttering something in English…sounded like, "Spic n' span," whatever that was,) a question occurred to Hiro.

"K-san?" Hiro watched the man with careful dark eyes, hoping not to end up on the wrong side of said pistol. While K couldn't kill him, under both contract and legal ramifications, threats were still entirely the man's style…and aiming scarily close to one's head, blowing out eardrums.

With a cheerful smile, the manager shifted his gaze (covered by sunglasses despite being indoors,) to Hiro. "Yes, Hiroshi?"

"Do you have a permit to carry…or for that matter, use?" Hiro knew as soon as he saw the look on the man's face (one of absent minded shock, as if the thought had not previously crossed his mind) that the question would have been better left unasked.

K smiled brightly again, though, as only he and people like Shuichi and Ryuichi could, and waved his hand in what should have been a flippant movement but actually came off as rather manic. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little head off about stuff like that, Hiroshi!" He grinned. "I've got that sort of thing handled."

Hiro wanted to point out that the man had quite conveniently avoided his question, but K had pulled a much larger rifle from an attaché case and he got the feeling that if he hadn't gotten an answer, it was 'cause K didn't want to give one and he wasn't gonna have any better luck.

Going back to his guitar, fingers already sliding over a familiar riff, Hiro realized he probably shouldn't have asked such a question to a man who routinely threatened to shoot his best friend at point blank range.

* * *

Author's Notes; Random drabble. I love K-san; he rocks my socks. This was my first time writing anything for Gravitation, so I hope I got the characters right. Lol. The cultivated project was 450 words, so it was just a bit of random mindless fluff. Kinda. Makes ya think now, when he pulls out that Magnum .44 on Shuichi. Hope the beginning author's note makes sense now, and I hope you enjoyed. Reviews make me feel like I should actually write more Gravitation, so I hope I get a few (fellow K-san fans out there?) In the immortal words of Claude "K" Winchester, "All right, troops!! Face front and deploy for Disneyland!" (What did that have to do with anything? I don't know…I just think it's hilarious to see a gun toting, music managing, Japanese speaking American putting out 3,000 landmines over a date to Disneyland.) 

Humbly (and apparently insanely,) yours,  
--Phoenix


End file.
